


Here I Am a Rabbit-Hearted Girl

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, all Ruby all the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: It had been impossible to turn away from the grainy footage of her, from the pictures and the videos and the endless discussions about the danger of superheroes and how even they needed to adhere to the law. Ruby had pitied them, once again, for failing to see the simplicity of a world in black and white, for believing that the law applied to people like Quake.People like her.The people who were doing what they did for the good of us all.





	Here I Am a Rabbit-Hearted Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Ruby Hale has taken over my life and I'm sorry but that's just how I live now. 
> 
> I just had a lot of thoughts about Ruby and I wanted to write a lot of them down and this is a vague sort of story about Ruby and a bit of her "background" and just a minor character study about that murder child. 
> 
> Title from "Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)" by Florence + the Machine

Once there was a princess locked away in a tower.

Except the tower was more like a secret government bunker and Ruby Hale had never believed in fairy tales.

Except the fairy tales of superheroes and their powers and how they used them for good, the way her mother always assures her that she is doing. Though she never uses the word hero, never fails to look at the pictures of Quake with a curl of disdain on her face. It makes Ruby wonder if their definitions of hero are different.

There’s a beauty in the simplicity of her world and the way of thinking that her mother has imbued her with. There’s a freedom in the easy categories, in the way of breaking the world down into manageable pieces: good and bad. Hero and villain.

Even the poster on her wall is simple. The poster she begged her mother to bring her and when begging didn’t work, her words turned to snarls and thinly-veiled threats volleyed back and worth in the brusque language of a mother and her teenage daughter. But the poster had appeared, and Ruby had gotten her way and there had been the word, proclaimed there so boldly, so easily: _hero_. Ruby had traced it endlessly with her eyes, feeling a tight certainty settle in her chest. Good and bad. Hero and villain. And she knew where she belonged on that spectrum with no grey area.

She almost pities the people in the world who can’t see how everything fits into a box, neatly organized and tucked away. The things you need to do and those you don’t. The people you need to care about and those that don’t matter. Good guys and bad. These are the lessons she received as a little girl, when her knuckles still bruised from punches that didn’t hit their aim with conviction and when her muscles still burned from the weight of teaching her body to move how it was supposed to.

When her mother, her teachers, would push her, would force her on with promises of doing the necessary thing to make the world a better place. “For the good of us all,” they would say and she would grit her teeth and try again. Because that’s what heroes did.

 

* * *

 

When she was younger, when the sky opened up above New York City and sent the aliens raining down from the stars above, things had been different. Her purpose had been less clear, her mother’s motives hidden away in some secret box that Ruby didn’t have access to despite her prying. Some boxes just couldn’t be opened -a philosophy that has never sat well with her.

But still, she understood secrets in the way that only the child of a military family could.

And so, when her mother insisted that she increase her training, push herself harder, that was exactly what she did. And when her mother told her that the world was changing and she needed to change with it, she adapted, learned, reshaped her way of thinking. And when her mother told her that she shouldn’t fill her brain with the images of the Avengers and their exploits, she listened. “They’ll only distract you,” her mother had said and Ruby had listened, glistening with sweat, trying to stand on trembling legs for another round on the sparring mat. “And you cannot afford another distraction.”

But with Quake it had been different.

It had been impossible to turn away from the grainy footage of her, from the pictures and the videos and the endless discussions about the danger of superheroes and how even they needed to adhere to the law. Ruby had pitied them, once again, for failing to see the simplicity of a world in black and white, for believing that the law applied to people like Quake.

People like her.

The people who were doing what they did for the good of us all.

They should be thanking Quake, worshipping at her feet, grateful for all that she was doing to protect the weak and untrained, those who could not protect themselves. Instead, they vilified her, considered her a vigilante -a sloppy and pathetic word that was tossed around because it was easy.

Even her own mother had grimaced, often repeatedly, at Quake, at the poster on the wall. “A menace.”

“She’s one of the good guys.” It had been easy to say, something Ruby had felt within the deepest parts of herself, an unshakable truth.

There were a few of those in her life, those particularly strong boxes she had sorted these facets into, ones she took out and fingered like rosary beads whenever she laid awake at night, staring at the shadows on her ceiling.

But her mother had looked at her, disappointed. “You should take that poster down.”

It had become a sort of parting phrase, uttered in disgust instead of a simple ‘goodbye’, always said as her mother turned away and left and the doors shut behind her. The click of the wooden one, the groan of the more solid one behind that.

They both knew the poster would not come down.

And Ruby knew her mother would never force her.

That she was afraid to see what might happen if she tried.

 

* * *

 

Her schedule is simple, like everything else in her life. Organized and compartmentalized. Easy.

Sleep. Classes. Her room. The only window she has is her phone and its lack of limitations. She can’t imagine the small life that the other people out there in the world lead, the way they see only the same things every day, the way their world is undoubtedly so small. She has her phone, which lets her see whatever she might want. She has her missions, however brief, that take her to places that most people don’t even know to look for.

And she has Quake.

She watches the footage over and over, endlessly, never tiring of what she sees. There’s something so bold about Quake, so vibrant, and brilliant. A presence that makes Ruby’s heart jump, her chest tighten. The way she moves, fluid and certain. The way she never hesitates, the way she never wavers in her commitment to help those who cannot help themselves.

Ruby feels that they have a lot in common, that Quake would understand her in a way that no one else does. In a way that no one else ever could.

SHIELD is a beacon, an organization dedicated to doing the right thing, to being on the frontline, to ensuring that no one need worry about the sky splitting open again and death raining down on the helpless below. And Quake is its stand-out, a true hero among those with badges and guns.

Ruby wonders what it would be like to be among them, to finally be able to put her training to the test, to show what she can do. To have Quake look at her and smile and nod and assure her that she’s done well, that her work has paid off, that she is one of the good guys too. “You can be one of us, Ruby,” she will say, and the thought makes Ruby smile and turn onto her side to press her face into her pillow.

“You know her,” Ruby challenges her mother during one of her daily visits, when she feels slightly too full, wound too tight, desperate to get out of this room before she starts bouncing off the walls. She’s been watching new footage of Quake all morning, studying her moves, her actions, the way she had saved the day. It makes her feel in danger of combusting. “You work with SHIELD.”

Her mother scowls, an expression that is growing all too normal. It reminds Ruby of years ago, when she used to tell her to turn off the footage of Iron Man and Captain America and stop aspiring to use her abilities in such a “mundane” way. As if there could be anything mundane about Quake.

“I work alongside them,” she says flatly. “Which is what I will continue to do until General Talbot tells me otherwise. I do not know…her.” When Ruby begins to protest, her mother interrupts, “And even if I did, I would never stoop to introduce my daughter to any of them, like a little girl who wants to meet her favorite singer. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?”

Ruby feels the flare of humiliation, an emotion her mother is skilled in pulling out in her.

“It’s not just some idiot singer,” she says sharply. “It’s Quake.”

Her mother glares. “A menace.”

Ruby things her vocabulary might not extend past that particular word.

It makes her smile, imagining her mother consulting a thesaurus, trying to find another word to use to insult both Quake and her daughter.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” her mother says sharply. “You have class to get to. Act like you care about something more than some degenerate vigilante.”

While in class, Ruby imagines herself preparing for the moment when she will get to meet Quake, when they will look at one another and see a kindred spirit.

Yes, her schedule is easy and simple. Sleep. Class. Her room. Quake.

 

* * *

 

Quake leaves SHIELD, running off to become exactly what everyone has always insisted she is: a vigilante.

And Ruby can’t help but question the goodness of SHIELD, can’t help but wonder if they’ve been placed inside the wrong box after all.

Quake is a good guy, a hero. If she has left SHIELD then maybe they do not deserve the same moniker.

Her mother disagrees, as she often does. “Quake is the problem,” she says with an assurance born from her loyalty to Talbot and her dogged determination to follow the rules at all times. “She is the problem, her and all those so-called superheroes who think they’re above the rest of us.”

“They are,” Ruby says simply. “And so am I.”

Their eyes meet and Ruby can see her mother’s desire to protest, to argue this point. She can see how it contradicts with everything she has always told her, always taught her. Everything she has been shaping her into since she was a little girl.

_You are the best_ , she has said, time and time again, _you are my daughter_.

“Daisy Johnson is not the hero you think she is,” her mother says instead. “None of them are. You’ll see.”

Ruby can only lift her chin. “Her name is Quake.”

 

* * *

 

She imagines that moment endlessly, slipping her headphones into her ears and wondering what it will be like to finally meet Quake.

“Ruby,” Quake will say, “we’ve been waiting for you.”

“I know,” Ruby will say in return and she can feel the puff of pride in her chest, the way her body hums, so well prepared for this moment. “I’ve been waiting for you too.”

Waiting for her chance to finally leave this room for good, to be done with her training, to be ready to join the rest of the good guys.

“You’ll still sloppy, immature, unready,” her mother says. “You think you can do any good like this?”

“You’re perfect,” Quake will say, “I’ve never seen anyone so confident, so skilled. How did you manage that?”

Ruby will not tell her about the training, daily, since she could walk.

She will not tell her about the boxes, the rooms, the places that Ruby is allowed to go and the places that she is not.

She will not tell her about the pulled muscles, the broken bones, the taste of blood on her teeth and the bruises that took days to fade.

She will not tell her about the classes she could never miss, the schedule that allowed for no deviation.

She will not tell her of the spite that burned like fire in her bones for every bad thing her mother every said, for every time her mother’s lips curled at the name Quake.

Instead, she will say, “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

And Quake will see how worthy she is, how important, how valuable. Quake will see that Ruby Hale is exactly who she’s been searching for.

 

* * *

 

When Quake shoots General Talbot, Ruby places him easily in the opposite box. Bad. Villain.

Her mother, of course, disagrees with this.

“Things will be different from now on,” her mother, now General Hale, informs her sharply, crossing her arms over her chest. “Things will be different in this house.”

Ruby can only look at her. “You should be happy,” she says. “Haven’t you wanted a promotion?”

The words burn like fire, scolding her mother. Ruby can see it in her eyes. Not because the statement isn’t true, but because it is.

Her mother whirls, reaching for the poster on her wall. “There will be no more of this trash in this house.”

Ruby is off the bed, lightning fast, her palm pressing against her mother’s wrist, pinning her to the wall. “Don’t touch that.”

Beside her, Quake stands proudly on the poster above the word _hero_ , seeming to encourage Ruby, to cheer her on.

_You’re one of the good guys_ , Quake says, _a hero_.

Her mother jerks away from her touch, stepping away from the wall. “You are grounded, young lady,” she says tightly, smoothing down her rumbled blazer. “Give me your screen.”

Ruby hands it over, feeling oddly vindicated.

On the wall, Quake seems to agree.

Outside the door, the guards appear, a new addition to the tower, as though the princess could somehow ever escape.

 

* * *

 

Her mother is after SHIELD but mainly, Ruby knows, after Quake. Quake, who is a hero. Quake, who understands Ruby even though no one else does.

It makes Ruby wonder about her boxes and the labels on them.

“Are you one of the good guys?”

The brief flicker of emotion on her mother’s face is an answer.

 

* * *

 

“Your teacher said you were distracted today in class.”

“Nice to see you too,” Ruby says without turning around to face her mother, applying a second coat of sparkling polish to her nails. Bowie spins on the record player, singing of stars and a vast emptiness.

“Oh, I’m sorry, should we make small talk? Should I give you compliments you don’t deserve? Would that make you feel better?” Her mother says tightly. “Or would you rather I tell you why I’m here.”

Ruby still doesn’t turn around, watching as some of the polish bleeds into her cuticle. “I would rather you weren’t here at all.”

Her mother ignores her. “You’re needed tonight. So suit up.”

Ruby tenses in anticipation and hopes that her mother doesn’t notice. “For what?”

“SHIELD has been spotted.”

And Ruby hates her mother because she knows exactly what she’s doing, knows the exact words to get Ruby to respond. What she can’t resist. She turns around quickly in her seat, rattling the bottles of polish on her vanity. “Quake?”

A twitch, a tell on her mother’s face. A sign that she thinks about lying, just for a moment. But when she sees Ruby’s eyes picking her expression apart, she only shakes her head. “Not yet,” she says. “But she’ll be there.”

Ruby’s eyes narrow slightly. “I want Daisy Johnson.”

The name fits perfectly on her tongue, a cadence of syllables that tastes familiar and comforting. Quake. Daisy Johnson. Her kindred spirit, her sister. The person who gets her, who has been waiting for her for years.

Without her, there’s no point.

Another twitch, another tell. “I know,” her mother says and looks almost pained by this. “But she’ll be there. She’ll come. I promise.”

Ruby considers this, mulling it over. “Fine,” she says. “Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

Daisy Johnson is not there.

Quake is not there.

Ruby feels this emptiness in her heart, the disappointment of being so unbelievably close, the anger of being lied to.

By her mother. By Quake.

Quake was supposed to be here. They were supposed to be together. Finally, together.

Ruby grits her teeth, trying to control her breathing inside her mask. “Kill them,” she says petulantly, annoyed.

How could Quake not be here. How could she not know, not understand?

How could she leave Ruby here all alone?

Though, Ruby thinks, maybe it’s just a matter of Quake not realizing that Ruby was going to be here, not understanding the importance of this day, this moment.

Which is completely fine. Ruby can make her understand, can tell her, an invitation of sorts, a reminder.

A way to make Quake listen.

_It’s Ruby_ , she can say, _and I’ve been waiting for you_.

 

* * *

 

Sloppy. A disappointment.

These words are not new, coming from her mother.

_You are my daughter_ , which sounds like a curse rather than a source of pride. She knows what it means to be General Hale’s daughter.

To bleed, to hurt, to ache. To push and push and push.

To never be good enough.

The sounds of the heavy door are not new either. The groaning as it settles in place, keeping her firmly in her box. Where she belongs.

The box she believes is labeled _good_. Hero.

But Ruby wonders, her eyes settling on Quake as she lets her mother’s words repeat in her mind. Sloppy. A disappointment.

Quake didn’t come, she didn’t show up for Ruby. Maybe she, too, finds her disappointing. Sloppy. Not worth her time.

“This,” Quake will say, “is not the Ruby I was expecting.”

Ruby grits her teeth, ignoring the sting in her eyes and the embarrassment that comes with it.

“This,” Quake will say, “is not who I thought you were.”

Not her kindred spirit. Not her sister. Not worth her time.

Ruby looks at the poster on the wall, swallowing.

_I’m sorry_ , she will tell Quake, _I’ll try harder next time_.

   


End file.
